The music industry has gone through some existential changes in the past decade. The likes of Napster and Audiogalaxy fired the first warning shots and the late Steve Jobs really got things really going with iPods/Phones/Tunes a few years on.

Crucially, streaming on YouTube and Spotify have made (legally) free music the present, rather than the future. Despite being a relentless innovator it's taken Björk a little while to catch up, but the results are more than worth the wait. Her first record since 2007's hit-and-miss Volta, Biophilia is not just a pop album, but also a multimedia live experience and collection of apps for the Apple iPad, on which much of the album was recorded.

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But... all that is just window dressing. When you strip away all the technological gubbins and smarty-pants song subtitles to a plain old bog-standard CD, the ten tracks of Biophilia add up to Björk's best album in at least a decade, maybe longer.

Lead single 'Crystalline' is a pretty perfect representation; brought together by its sparse electronics, harsh beats and those peerless vocals. The themes of nature/man/emotion are nothing new ("Rocks growing slow mo/ I conquer claustrophobia") but no less impressive in their delivery. And in its last last minute, things go absolutely mental in a braincrushing clash of noise which shows that, despite being 46 next month, Björk certainly isn't ready for a cup of cocoa and a greatest hits tour just yet.

Similarly, 'Sacrifice' teases with two minutes of cascading keys, building tension and discordant interruptions before a buzzing, distorted dubstep breakdown introduces the second half, all the while Björk's lyrics soar over everything diffidently. 'Mutual Core' has equally earsplitting moments of brilliance that wouldn't sound out of place at some of the heaviest clubs around.

Most of the record isn't nearly as headbanging, but it's equally captivating. There's the repressive, multilayered vocals and droning artificial organ sound of 'Dark Matter', which sucks you in and under as much as the title suggests it should. The plinky-plonk windchimes of 'Virus' recall parts of Homogenic and Vespertine but still shimmer with freshness. The slow chants and organ stabs that punctuate 'Thunderbolt' make it sound like a 22nd century mass for the damned.

Biophilia shows that no matter how you record, package, or market it, there will always be a place for inventive, emotional music that is unafraid to push boundaries and rip your soul to shreds.